Chapter 456: A Sad Legend, What Kind of Legend Is It? (6)

The small town clinging to the northeastern coast around Mount Lao’s northern ridge was called Kim Family Village.

Though it sat by the shore and had a harbor, it wasn’t prosperous, since the major coastal road and the bustling port town of Jimo lay nearby.

Still, it was the kind of place that barely qualified as a “town,” propped up by travelers climbing Cheonwon Peak—the easiest of Mount Lao’s summits by length versus height—and by the white beach known as Old Man Shore.

Kim Family Manor? Could it be that Kim clan? If you take a boat, it’s just across the water—who knows?

Of course, no one could say for sure.

Originally the Mount Lao entry route should’ve been busy with guides, porters, rickshaw pullers, and peddlers.

But the town’s mood sagged, and on the Mount Lao road only a handful of hawkers sat at their stalls, not even calling out, just watching warily.

That alone said enough about how much havoc the people searching for the Absorbing Qi Demonic Art had already caused.

“Maybe we should just eat breakfast now? Wouldn’t it be better to eat at a tavern before going in?”

“What breakfast. No. ... Fine. Let’s eat.”

At Qing’s suddenly crestfallen expression, Cheon Yuhak gave in.

What, was Saljungsal going to escape just because they stopped for a morning meal?

So they ate a simple breakfast—so simple the tavernkeeper himself ran out and gave them each a free cup of his own home-brewed liquor.

That was when—

“Aigo, that bastard’s back again.”

The young waiter—probably the tavernkeeper’s son—scowled.

Qing turned her head and saw a ragged figure... rags wearing rags.

Beaten so badly his eyelids were black and swollen, nearly covering his eyes. His cheeks puffed fit to burst, lips split and scabbed. His hands were swollen too, bones clearly damaged.

The beggar glanced around the empty tavern, spotted Qing’s group, and cried out desperately:

“Honorable warriors! Please, please help me!”

They hadn’t yet changed into their mountain-harvester disguises—they were still in ordinary clothes.

Four people, four swords, though one of them carried two—still, they looked like martial artists. So the beggar called to them right away.

“You bastard, again? Do you really want to die? Get lost!”

The young waiter stormed toward him, eyes blazing.

For a beggar already beaten half to death, it felt cruel—but since the boy had blue numbers floating above his head, Qing decided to watch for now.

Did people with good karma really act kindly?

“Honorable warrior—mph.”

The boy shoved something into the beggar’s mouth.

Not a fist— a rice ball.

The beggar chewed and swallowed, and the boy sighed deeply.

“Idiot. A living bastard has to live. You got your ass beat last time too. You okay?”

“But those bastards...!”

“If you die chasing revenge, that’s just a dog’s death. And wasn’t it some famous sect? Even the local troops can’t do anything—who do you think will?”

“But those sons of bitches, those filthy mongrels, they—! Honorable warrior, please, hon—mmph.”

Another rice ball stuffed in.

Of course, good deeds piled up virtue.

And with numbers that blue, the boy had to be genuinely kind.

Qing let out a long sigh.

So good people did good things. Why? Because they were good. What kind of childish logic was that?

She looked around at her companions.

One expression indifferent.

One gaze fixed on her, asking silently if they weren’t going to help.

And one—fidgeting, pounding oversized buttocks on the bench like she wanted to leap up right then, but holding back and glancing nervously at the others.

Hmm. Three to one.

Cheon Yuhak’s face soured, but he only snorted through his nose.

Master, this is democracy. Minority opinions don’t mean a thing. If you want your way, you have to sway us emotionally.

“Hey, waiter. What’s going on here?”

“Ah, customer, don’t mind him—”

“Please help! If you save me, I’ll serve you for life! I beg you, please...!”

“Mm. Master, do you need a servant?”

“Bah. No need.”

“Well then, hmm.”

Qing glanced around.

They had been the first customers in this empty tavern, eating heavily, so the tavernkeeper had even sent out free liquor.

“So, what’s the story?”

And the rag-wrapped beggar spilled his tale.

He came from Wang Family Village, once peaceful.

But a band of marauders had suddenly descended, slaughtering people with laughter, raping women, occupying the village.

Sneaking away at night to seek help had been useless. Begging the authorities only got him beaten black and blue—

“Wait, that face, beaten into a rice cake—that was the government office that did it?”

“They said, ‘a tax-dodging rat making trouble,’ and... krhhk.”

Of course, little villages like that didn’t pay taxes.

Hidden away in remote places, or °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° if discovered, they’d just say, “We have nothing, cut open our bellies if you want.”

They really had nothing—there was no profit to be had—so officials called them rats and didn’t even treat them as people.

So yes, the beating was cruel, but the authorities did have their excuse.

When those villagers had told outsiders not to interfere, it was one thing—but now trouble had come, they wanted to cry to the government.

The beggar choked up, sobbing, words tumbling into whimpers.

But Qing didn’t need to hear more.

Her eyes sharpened.

“Wang Family Village—is that the one up the northern ridge?”

The waiter answered in the beggar’s place.

“Oh, no, miss. That one’s Tang Family Village. Wang Family Village is half a day south of here, down at the mountain’s foot.”

Qing’s eyebrow twitched.

So a different village.

Meaning there was another group who had stormed in and massacred people?

“Miss, I heard it was Gangpaecheon (Tyrant Force Sect), some enormous sect. If you get involved, it’ll bring terrible trouble.”

“Please, please help us...”

Qing turned to Cheon Yuhak.

“Tyrant Force Sect? Hm. One of the Ten Heretic Powers? Is that right?”

“Roughly what they call it. What—Ten Evil Celestial Sects. The heretics themselves picked ten to count. Doesn’t mean they’re small fry. Haa. And you won’t listen even if I tell you not to, will you?”

“Well. If you’re speaking sincerely.”

Cheon Yuhak exhaled deeply.

“Think carefully. This isn’t like dealing with local thugs. If you act, you must leave no threat behind. For your sect’s sake too.”

At the word sect, Qing’s heart gave a thump.

Jin Jangmyeong clutched Qing’s sleeve.

Qing looked down—she shook her head.

To Jangmyeong, some so-called heretic sect mattered far less than her Divine Lady’s Gate family.

But could they just ignore human garbage like that?

Would her Master really want that?

Qing stroked Jangmyeong’s head.

“It’s fine. How would they ever know who we are? Mm, but what about Yeon-yong?”

Yeon-yong was Murong Juhee’s alias.

Eon Yeonyeong the eldest daughter, Eon Yeon the second son, Eon Yeon-yong the younger daughter.

Easy to slur into Onyeonyang, Onnyeoni, Onnyong.

Of course, aside from Eon Yeonyeong, Qing had made it all up—historically inaccurate.

But using an alias was never that easy.

The most common way people blew their cover was failing to respond when called—because it didn’t sound like their name.

“Nyeonyong?”

“Ah—yes. Nyeonyong is me. Th-that’s me. I want to go with my sister.”

When Unaram had used the nickname, Qing had cringed a hundredfold.

But when Jangmyeong used it, it wasn’t so bad. When Murong Juhee said it, it was bearable.

Why?

Hm? With Jangmyeong, it didn’t bother her at all?

Qing thought for a moment—ah.

She must not mind hearing it from a kid.

The ragged beggar stared blankly at them.

“You mean... you’ll help us?”

“Don’t expect much. And don’t open your mouth anywhere—get caught up and it’ll cost you. You understand me?”

“At least your name, benefactor—”

“Didn’t you hear me? I just told you not to get involved. And already you’re asking names? Forget it. Just get yourself together. You’re puffed up like a hotteok. Mm, hotteok. Don’t they sell those here?”

****

There was no hotteok shop.

Thus, righteous wrath fell upon Tyrant Force Sect!

Enemies of hotteok! They would all die!

“They didn’t massacre a village for nothing. Likely the village itself was their goal—a base of operations.”

After climbing Mount Lao, they must have realized this search wouldn’t end in a day or two.

And by chance, there was a village nestled on the eastern slope.

Dilapidated, but livable houses—an ideal base from which to spread along any ridge of Mount Lao.

“Mm. Truly bastards deserving death.”

“This is why treasures must be destroyed. Once inhuman men get greedy, this is what follows.”

The more one learned of the heretic world, the more monstrous it seemed.

Were these even human?

“And if they need a base, that means their numbers are decent. If it was just a handful, they wouldn’t bother. A sect like Tyrant Force Sect wouldn’t want to earn infamy from just crushing a village—they’d just seize the best house and lord over it.”

“Mm.”

“But now it’s morning. Most will have gone up into the mountain. The ones left will be nobodies, or else the laziest bastard who didn’t want hard work.”

Jin Jangmyeong and Murong Juhee’s eyes drifted down, to Qing’s lower body.

And Qing’s gaze naturally wandered to Murong Juhee’s wide hips—

“What? Why are you looking at me? Well, fine, Miss Murong, but Jangmyeong, why you too? If it’s about striking curves, shouldn’t you be looking at Miss Murong? Her hips flare out like this—”

Qing spread her hands wide to either side.

Murong Juhee blushed crimson.

“N-no, not that much.”

“Hmph. Big sister’s butt is bigger.”

Jangmyeong said it with smug pride.

Well, she was taller, so of course it was bigger.

Miss Murong barely reached Qing’s shoulder—if her ass were bigger too, that’d be weird.

Qing argued that when judging ass-size, it wasn’t absolute mass but body proportion, plus the curve—whether like a crescent moon or a sagging one—that mattered. That was how one judged whether an ass was small, medium, large, or big and beautiful.

Cheon Yuhak added his voice.

“Why the hell does ass-size matter? Be serious. Hm? Can you be serious? You’re joking even now?”

“Eyy, if you stay too tense, nothing will go right. I’m just lightening the mood.”

Still, Qing was impressed.

From just the fact that a village had been raided, her Master had deduced so much.

Honestly, he didn’t usually sound so sharp—but of course, he had once been Scholar Cheon, a professor.

“So, either it’s just small fry, or there’s one strong guy among them?”

“Given how heretics are, even if there is a strong one, it’ll just be one. They can’t stand letting their underlings loaf while they themselves relax.”

“Mm. Then I’ll make a racket at the front gate. Jangmyeong and Miss Murong, you slip over the wall. Master, do as you please. And—leave no threats behind.”

Qing’s eyes gleamed cold.

Leave no threats behind.

That meant kill them all.

Cheon Yuhak let out a long sigh.

“Haa. I don’t know if this is the right thing. When I stand before the Grand-Masters, what am I supposed to say?”

A lament, since their Divine Thief mission was supposed to be about stealing treasure, not lives.